The Good Soldier (39 page)

"OK," I said.

"You know what?" He said. "Bring the woman with you, the brown haired one, but no one else."

I lifted my head and looked into the lobby. Sarah sat across the way with her back to the wall opposite mine. She looked in the direction of my office, but not at me. I knew that I couldn't drag her down there with me. Not on a suicide mission.

"Just me," I said.

I heard the sound of plastic banging on wood as he set the phone down, then the man's muffled voice. "Come here," it sounded like he said. His words were followed by a smack, then a scream. A child yelled, "Let me go." I didn't recognize the voice. The pitch was different, higher maybe, and more melodic. The voice belonged to a girl, not Christopher. My stomach dropped as I realized we'd lost one.

"She's a cute one, Jack," he said. "You should see her. You can't imagine the kind of money she'd bring in."

I buried my rage. "OK," I said, maintaining a calm and controlled tone. "Me and the woman. We're heading to Dulles now and we'll be in Miami by six." I ended the call.

My rage resurfaced. I tipped my desk and let it crash to the floor.

Frank appeared outside my office and yanked the door open. "What happened?"

"Who do we know in Miami?"

A confused look crossed his face. "What? Where?"

"Miami," I said. "Bottom of Florida." I stepped through the doorway and pushed past him into the lobby.

Sarah looked up at me and forced a smile. "What's up?"

"You're coming to Miami with me."

"What?"

I'd heard
what
too many times by that point. "Listen, there's no time for questions. He's got two kids now. He wants me in Miami. He wants you to go with me."

"I can't leave and go to Miami," she said.

"You don't have a choice," I said, my words seething with anger, though not directed at her.

"Wait a minute," Frank said. "Two kids?"

"Yeah."

"Who?" He held out his hands. "We had everyone covered."

"A girl," I said. "I'd suggest you call around and see who doesn't answer. That'd be the place to start."

"Christ," Frank said. "What are we dealing with?"

I shook my head. "I'll figure that out on the flight. But for now, we've got to move." I grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her across the lobby, toward the exit. I stopped and turned. "And Frank, I need a contact down there. I'm stepping off a plane completely unarmed in a place where I don't know a soul."

I blinked my eyes open and stared through the oval window, ignoring the glare from the sun and the smudges left behind from a previous passenger. From six miles in the air, the ground looked like scenery surrounding a toy train set. There were tracts of land, each a different shade of green or brown. Tiny black and gray asphalt roads and green rivers looked like snakes slithering through the serene setting.

I glanced to my left and saw Sarah leaning back, passed out. We both needed some sleep, and I was glad to see she would get more than I had. My watch said it was four p.m., which meant we'd probably already crossed the Georgia-Florida border and had less than an hour until we landed in Miami.

Burnett had only given us five hours to make the trip. Hardly enough time to get to the airport, book the first available flight, make it through security and then hop on a two-and-a-half hour non-stop flight from D.C. to Miami. We'd made it, though, managing to sprint onto our two-thirty flight as they were closing the door. Of course, my false F.B.I. credentials helped convince the airline staff to let us on. If caught, I'd likely spend a day in a cell. No more than two. And I'd be waiting for one of four people to come and clear me. That's how clandestine we were.

I returned my gaze to the window and the clouds and sky and perfect landscape below, sectioned off into square and rectangular plots. People think of resorts, theme parks, and South Beach when they think of Florida. The strip of country, farm, and swampland that runs through the center corridor of the state was often forgotten, and certainly ignored, by vacationing families and escaping snowbirds.

The greenness of Florida was in stark contrast with the day old snow that covered D.C. and New Jersey. I shrugged off my coat, acknowledging for the first time I wouldn't need it in Miami, maybe not ever again, for that matter. Just as the snow would soon melt away and soak into the ground or evaporate into the sky, I'd soon be recycled and returned to the Earth. I couldn't think like that, though. I didn't have time to think like that. Two innocent lives were on the line. Three if I counted Sarah. Countless more if I didn't put a stop to Burnett.

I refocused and replayed the last week in my mind. The events of the past thirty hours were my primary focus. At this point, I figured there was a ninety-five percent chance Burnett would be the man I'd be face to face with in Miami. Facts were he'd gone missing, and if I was to believe Tammy, he'd fathered her child and then abandoned them. I figured out the motive there easily enough. He had his political career to think of, and I doubt he abandoned them entirely. Probably paid her off, either one time or continuing to this day. Maybe he got tired of it. Maybe that's why he had the boy taken. The men that were the guts of the operation wouldn't question an order handed down by him. Sure, most of the kids had been taken at random, but Christopher had been targeted. I was sure of it. Pablo's statement of smacking the mother, and the bandage on Tammy's head confirmed it. Then the boy had been targeted a second time. He'd been pulled from the wreckage, supposedly. Something about the wreck bothered me. Tammy had been pretty banged up, and the car mangled. None of us were experts, although Sarah came close, but it sure looked like the only person who could have survived that crash would have been the driver. Of course, a little kid might not have been impacted. Without seeing the car in person, making that determination was damn near impossible.

Burnett had apparently masterminded the ring. Why, though? Why would a U.S. Senator get involved in such a thing? Money was the obvious answer, but there had to be more to it than that. Had he fallen in with the wrong people? Wrote checks his ass couldn't cash, as they say? Perhaps someone had information on him, damaging information. Perhaps the kind of thing that could ruin the man's career. In exchange for keeping quiet, he'd been recruited to oversee the group. He had power. He had connections. It still didn't make sense, to me, at least. On the other hand, having the boy kidnapped did, for any number of reasons.

I felt like a man running a marathon, only I was stuck at the two-mile mark. The answer was right in front of me, but I couldn't see it through the thousands in the crowd that swarmed by me while I took endless step after endless step on a treadmill.

Finally, what did Burnett want with the boy now? Bait? I figured that's why he had the girl. If not bait, then presumably to escape with him. I knew that escape had to be in the plans. He said to come alone, but he knew all about me, so he said to bring Sarah, too. I presumed as a bargaining chip. He also knew who I worked for. And he had to be prepared for them to show up at some point, which meant he did not intend to stay in Miami after he'd finished with me.

Sarah's arm brushed against mine. I turned toward her and saw her eyes flutter open. Warm, soft, inviting. She arched her back, dropped her head, moaned. The sound sent a shiver through me.

"Where are we?" she said.

"In between Orlando and Tampa."

"They're kind of across from each other, aren't they?"

I nodded then smiled. Anyone watching might assume we really were two lovers on vacation. Worst case, they'd think we were two colleagues on a business trip. Not a single person on the plane, not even Sarah, would guess that we were two people on a suicide mission. I was the only one with that distinction.

"Will we have time to find a hotel?" she asked with a single eyebrow raised curiously.

I shook my head. "Unfortunately, not with Miami traffic at five p.m. We'll have to wait for the next call at the airport and then figure out where to go."

Of course, I knew where we'd be going, and it wouldn't be to a hotel. I didn't tell her that, though.

"Do you think Frank will come through with a contact to meet us and…?"

I nodded. A gesture betrayed my feelings. Frank would come through, that much was true. But we'd never meet the man. I knew that.

"We'll have to play it by ear," I said. "If at any time you feel uncomfortable, I want you to tell me. And I want you to go. Leave."

She shook her head and placed her hand on mine. "I'm not going anywhere, Jack."

I smiled while my stomach knotted. I trusted myself to get through this OK. But could I trust myself to get her through it too? Bravery was second nature for her. I wasn't sure if her instincts were right for this job.

She closed her eyes again, and so did I. Neither of us spoke again until the plane landed.

The airport hummed with activity. People coming and going, and waiting for loved ones with anticipation, and watching them leave with sorrowful eyes. For me, it was another day at work. For Sarah, it was like a shot of adrenaline. I bet if I'd asked, I'd have found out the woman liked to jump out of planes and off bridges and go to one of those places where they let you drive a real race car around a real race track. The thought excited me, and for a second, I let my mind wander to what we'd do together if we survived this situation.

We picked our way through the crowd that surrounded the arrival's gate. Parts of it felt like scraping through molasses. For some, courtesy had been checked at the door that day. Sarah stayed close as we passed through the thickest spots. Her chest pressed against my side, arm wrapped around my waist. I found myself wishing we were two lovers on vacation. I'd have settled for colleagues on a business trip, that is if she insisted on remaining that close.

The crowd thinned and Sarah pulled away. Not much, only an inch or two. Her arm slid off my waist and wrapped around my arm. It felt comfortable and natural. Too much so, though. I found myself thinking more of her than paying attention to the crowd and the people that waited by the exit doors fifty yards ahead. Letting them spot us first was a recipe for disaster and something I generally tried to avoid.

Fortunately, I spotted him before he spotted me. He looked to be my height. His body was thin and athletic looking. He wore a dark blue suit with a conservative tie. His brown hair was cropped close to his head, with sunglasses perched atop. Knock ten years off Frank and he and the man would be spitting images of each other.

I exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. It didn't go unnoticed by Sarah.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Frank came through for us," I replied.

"Who? Where?"

"By the front door. Blue suit. Boring tie. Frank minus ten years."

Her head turned left, then right, then stopped. "I see him." A smile crossed her face. Mine, too. We'd be safe, for a while.

We walked another twenty-five yards. I deliberately slowed our pace down. I wanted him to see us. I had to see his reaction. Not that I didn't trust Frank to come through for us. That wasn't it at all. I was overly cautious when it came to meeting new people. And his initial reaction would tell me everything I needed to know.

The man's head inched side to side. He let his eyes do to the bulk of the work. They scanned left to right, corner to corner. No face went unnoticed. Finally, his gaze landed on me. It was judgment time. His lips parted and turned up in a smile. He mouthed, "Jack," and waved both hands above his head.

I kept moving forward, same pace. I looked to his left and to his right. I checked beside me, then beside Sarah. Everything felt normal. Frank had come through for us. I almost felt bad for doubting him, then I realized he would have doubted me if the tables were turned.

I lifted my right hand above my head and waved. I nodded, smiled, and kept moving. Fifteen yards away. His smile broadened. Ten yards away. His smile faded. Two more steps. He looked left, then right. A new grin swept across his face, but his eyes were narrow, beady, and dark. I felt a hand on my elbow. I felt Sarah pulled away from me. She gasped, and then went quiet, presumably because she felt the barrel of a gun pressed into her side, poised to rip through her kidney. I knew she felt that because I felt the same thing.

Frank hadn't come through, not by a long shot. This guy was one of Burnett's men.

The men led us through the steel-rimmed glass exit doors. The hot, muggy Miami air hit me like a sledgehammer. I started sweating within sixty seconds. We crossed the street like a misfit rat pack.

The man in the suit stopped in front of a white Cadillac Escalade. The vehicle was adorned with gold trim. They shoved Sarah and me in the back row. The men that guided each of us with guns in our backs, respectively, sat in the middle row Captain's chairs. They twisted in their seats to keep weapons trained on me. They didn't view Sarah as a threat. I didn't blame them. She was too easy on the eyes to be a threat. Of course, that could make her more of one. However, Burnett knew who he was dealing with. He had access to my files, classified or not.

The man in the suit climbed into the passenger seat and nodded at the driver, who adjusted the mirror. The driver's head twisted and turned up. His eyes burned into me. Those eyes, dark and puffy, looked familiar. He twisted at the waist, stuck out his left arm and grabbed a hold of the seat next to him, then turned his head.

"
Hola
, Jack."

It took a fraction of a second for me to recognize the man.
Pablo
. The guy who had led us to the house. The guy who'd been beaten within an inch of his life by Frank. The guy who'd supposedly had a heart attack at SIS headquarters. Now, the guy who surely wanted to have the first crack at me.

I nodded without breaking eye contact. Pablo was scared of me before, and I'd do everything to maintain that power over him, no matter my personal predicament.

"Let's go, Pablo," the man in the suit said, dragging out the o in Pablo's name two beats too long. "Too many damn cops around here."